


11/11

by CityMouse418



Category: The Dukes of Hazzard (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:57:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityMouse418/pseuds/CityMouse418
Summary: Relationships in Hazzard can be a litle complicated & *this* one is no exception.





	11/11

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to a dear friend with almost 25 years of ER & ICU experience who was a great help with editing the medical portions of this story. 
> 
> 2 truly original characters are introduced in this story. A backstory and full name is also given to a character that was only seen in one episode of the TV series.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Dry leaves rattled on sparse branches as the young man peered cautiously through the dark treeline. Under the nearly full moon, he could see the small farmhouse in the nearby clearing and noted that two lights burned softly inside. That didn’t bode well for him. He knew the routine of the residents and that house should have stayed dark for another four hours, at least. He planned his course of action carefully and decided that skimming around the edge of the barn would be the better route. From there, he would be able to tell what was happening inside and then proceed with trying to get in, unnoticed. Bracing himself for the quick jog to the barn, he wrapped himself tighter in his dark coat and ducked his head a little farther down into the wide collar. With one last look toward the house, he set off for the far edge of the barn and dodged behind the worn wooden door. The intruder set off a shuffling of furry and feathered bodies in the warm, dark barn.

“Settle down, Fanny! It’s just me!” 

The nanny-goat crowded against the familiar scent and rubbed her horns against the slippery dark lining of his coat. She bleated disapprovingly when he gently pushed her head away and tried to get her to move away from him, so he could get a better look at the house. He could just make out the battered tin mailbox with the last name painted on it: “DUKE”. From this angle, he could also see why the lights were on at this time of night. A piece-meal jalopy sat at an odd angle, near the front porch. That meant Mama had a lady-caller, which was both good and bad. Good because, for the moment, she’d be too busy to worry about her youngest son creeping into the house after midnight; bad because she would have already checked his bed and realized that he was missing. 

‘No sense in sneaking now,’ Jesse thought, so he turned his plaid wool coat right-side-out again and headed quietly to the porch. Slipping through the front-room door, he spied the nervous father-to-be sitting in the kitchen, but quickly turned to his left and ducked into his bedroom, unseen. He shucked his coat off his shoulders and slipped two fingers into the edge of the lining, easing a small scrap of paper from the hidden pocket. He scanned the books on the shelf and selected a nearly-new volume of “The Life and Times of George Washington.” Pulling the book out, he opened it fully and slid the paper down into the half-circle gap in the spine of the book. Closing it again, a person would never guess that his new whiskey recipe was secreted inside. Chuckling a little at the deliberate irony of his choice, Jesse hung his coat on the biggest nail in the wall and tossed his flat cap onto his bed. He smoothed a hand over his scruffy blond hair and went out to see how things were going in the rest of the house.

“You just getting in? Pretty chilly out there tonight, ain’t it?” The lanky man whom Jesse knew only as the clerk at Asher’s Grocery sat close to the cast iron cook-stove, holding onto his coffee cup for dear life. He had crossed his leg over his knee and his foot bobbed rhythmically, keeping time to music that only he could hear. Jesse put him firmly in the “odd duck” pile. He and Miss Evelyn Ford had married when Jesse was just a small boy, but Raleigh never did fit in with true Hazzard folk. Jesse figured he never would, either, with his fancy manners and his nose down in a book most of the time. His people had come from up in Virginia somewhere and they had lived in town, all their years here, so they really stuck out like sore thumbs when you got ‘em out here in the real country. 

“Yeah, Mr. Raleigh, it is.” Jesse answered politely enough, but made it clear that he didn’t want any more conversation. He slipped past the man and got a cup for himself before checking the level in the large blue-speckled coffee pot. Guessing there would be enough for about two more cups, he filled his own and then topped off his guest’s.

“I bet you were surprised to come home to all this, huh?” Raleigh grinned up at Jesse, nodding his thanks for the fresh coffee. “Effie thought we were going to get away with another week on this one, but then she started hurting about noon. Harlan … Mr. Asher lets me call home, once she gets far along like this, and check on her. Especially since … ,” he paused and took a steadying sip of the warm liquid. “He’s got a good heart.”

Jesse silently hoped that the bookish man wouldn’t ramble on, as he had a habit of doing. He heard far too much about women’s things, as it is, with Mama going all over the county catching babies. Plus, he already knew this story and remembered how awful his mother had felt, a couple of years ago. She had cared for Mrs. Effie the whole time and then she went into labor, a little early. Between them, they all decided it was probably safer to go to the new hospital in Coreyville. Two days later, Raleigh made a quick trip home to move the cradle back up into the attic where it wouldn’t be so upsetting when he brought Effie back. “Poor woman - buried as many as she bore,” his mother had wept, at the time.

Both men startled as a pained cry came from the back bedroom. Raleigh looked toward the closed door and murmured something that Jesse couldn’t catch. He lowered his head and closed his eyes for a moment, which guiltily nudged the younger man to do the same. They each looked up at nearly the same instant as the door creaked open and a sturdy-looking woman stepped through, quickly closing the door behind her. Madeline Ivy Duke would have normally jumped all over her son for tom-catting around after midnight, but she had much more important things to deal with, at the moment. 

“You’re back - good.” She spoke to Jesse first, seemingly ignoring the fact that he had been absent for the start of this whole evening’s excitement. “Start those two biggest pots heating and get the basins ready, out on the side porch.” She headed to the red and white painted corner cupboard and filled her apron with all of their softest cotton huck-towels. 

Turning to Raleigh, she smiled and held out a hand toward him. “You want to go in and visit for a minute before the real hard work starts?” she offered. She patted the man on the back as he went ahead of her, pausing to throw a warning look over her shoulder toward Jesse. She firmly nodded toward the stove, then continued into the bedroom. The click of the door latch sounded eerily loud in the quiet house.

Jesse busied himself filling the large steel pots with fresh water and setting them to heat. He dumped and rinsed the coffee pot while he was at it, filled it and spooned fresh coffee grounds into the basket. He put the fresh pot on the smallest iron plate on the stove, then gathered the pair of enamel wash basins from underneath the water-bucket table. He carried them out onto the low wooden porch, just outside the kitchen door, and placed them side-by-side on the rough worktable. He looked at the table critically and then stepped back inside to grab a spare towel and placed it across one of the metal pans. Cocking his head toward the back of the house, Jesse listened for any sounds inside, but couldn’t hear much. He walked around the outside of the house and went up onto the front porch to wait for the commotion that knew would be coming next. 

Behind him, the heavy wooden front door squeaked as it opened. Raleigh joined him on the porch and both settled into mismatched wooden chairs, each lost in his own thoughts. A gentle breeze swept through the tall grass alongside the house, causing the dried strands at the top to sway and lean. The pair sat like that for what seemed like an age when a slight movement off to his right caught Jesse’s attention. He watched as a good-sized buck left the shadowy gloom of the trees and stepped gingerly into the open field. The animal stood silent for a few moments, then moved more confidently into the clearing and nipped at the soft grass. 

“Hot damn,” Jesse whispered, grinning broadly. He slowly left his chair and crept back through the door as quietly as he could, trying to keep half an eye on the deer. He quickly reached up and lifted his hunting rifle off the rack and slid two shells into the chambers before easing his way to the edge of the porch. He glanced behind him to see Raleigh watching the buck with a rapt expression. He didn’t even act like he had seen Jesse move. Rolling his eyes at the city-boy, he wondered how he would take what was going to happen next. The stupid sap probably thought meat was plucked off a tree, all neat and wrapped in waxed paper, like he handled at the store. 

Jesse watched for the deer to show any sign that he had been disturbed by the movements in getting and loading the gun. Apparently, the animal never noticed because he scented the air then chuffed a harsh breath toward the trees. Two more tan shapes gracefully emerged - a doe and a leggy fawn just losing its spots. The female and young deer joined the buck and started to graze as the big male stood guard. He let the animals nibble until they seemed more relaxed, then he carefully raised the rifle to his right shoulder and set his sight. He was steadying himself to move his finger from the outside of the trigger guard to the inside when he felt a hand grip his left shoulder from behind. 

“Please don’t,” Raleigh whispered close to the young man’s ear. He stayed almost pressed near Jesse’s elbow, hoping that would guarantee that the boy wouldn’t be able to fire. 

Jesse cursed under his breath and hissed at the man beside him, “You let go right now or this lead shot goes in your hind-end!” He moved his finger safely away from the trigger and roughly jerked his elbow back, aiming for the older man’s chin.

“Hear me out, Jesse. Effie’s in there, trying so hard to bring a new life into this world, and it just don’t feel right ... killing going on at the same time, on the same ground. Please let that little family stay together, one more night.”

“Big talk for somebody that ain’t counting on this meat for the winter. I let this buck go and how’re we gonna have anything to put up for when the snow hits?! You people in town never think of that, do you?” Jesse snarled at Raleigh, venting his frustration at the easy target. He saw the whispered conversation had gotten the attention of the three deer and they were all looking toward the house, anxiously. 

“How big you think that fella is, down there?” Raleigh asked, quickly. He started mentally cataloging the meat counter at Asher’s, while he waited for Jesse’s answer.

Jesse counted the points on the rack and gave the whole body of the buck a once-over before replying, “One-eighty for sure … maybe closer to one-ninety or one-ninety-five, if he’s solid.”

“How ‘bout an even trade - pound for pound in meat from the store, bought every week on MY tab. Anything you want, from now until the first day of May. I’ll even send over a turkey for Christmas and a full ham for Easter. That’ll keep you in meat all winter, without you needing to fire that gun tonight.” 

Jesse thought quickly and smirked at the older man. “If it’s worth that much to ya, make it the next two winters and you got a deal.”

“Done,” Raleigh replied without batting an eye. 

Jesse huffed out a laugh and lowered the gun into the crook of his arm, causing Raleigh to pat him soundly on the back and start laughing in relief, himself. That amount of movement, together with the laughter, sent the trio of deer bounding back into the woods. At that moment, both men heard the sounds of trevaille coming from the back bedroom and the wildlife situation was immediately forgotten. They nearly over-ran each other, trying to get into the kitchen to see what was happening. Jesse listened for a minute and then waved Raleigh into a chair. By the sound of things, it was going to be a while, yet.

For the next two hours, Madeline’s low voice could be heard through the closed door, echoed by the laboring mother’s weary groans. The sounds took on a grim pattern: the calm rumble of the midwife’s instructions and the harsh pants and moans of the mother, trying to comply. Suddenly, a sharp cry came from the room, followed by a second, more controlled groan - then all was quiet.

At the table, Jesse and Raleigh looked expectantly toward the bedroom. Raleigh rose from his seat as Madeline emerged from the room, smiling softly. She held a mostly-clean bundle tightly to her chest as she walked purposefully across the room.

“Well?” Raleigh asked, anxiously. He flexed his hands at his sides, hoping to get a first peek at the new addition.

“You go sit with Effie while I get this little one ready to meet you,” Madeline said, showing that she would brook no argument. She gently carried the newborn close to her and she headed out to the kitchen porch. “Jesse, get some of that warm water in the bowl out here and I’ll need your help with the washing up. Raleigh, I told Effie you’d be right in. Go on before she gets worried.” She jerked her head in the direction of the bedroom and put a bit of an edge to her voice to get Raleigh moving before continuing onto the porch. Once she saw him go in and shut the door, she hurried to the worktable on the porch and unwrapped the baby. She placed the tiny pale form in the basin with the towel and started briskly massaging the spindly arms and legs.

Jesse gasped when he looked in the tin bowl. “It is dead?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He looked at the unmoving, gray lump that was still covered in muck. He had seen a few newborns before and they were either rosy-pink or coffee-brown and wriggly and mad at being pulled out into the world. This one was just laying there, as cool and slimy as a trophy fish. 

“No!” Madeline replied in a harsh whisper. “Don’t you dare say that, out here! He’s just a little slow to come around, but we’re gonna fix that, ain’t we, Baby Boy.” The midwife crooned to the baby, moving first one limb, then another, in a morbid parody of swimming. She patted the bottoms of his feet and opened and closed his hands. As she scooped handfuls of warm water over the baby’s chest and belly, she began to hum fragments of old folk songs mixed with scraps of her favorite hymns. Seeing no real improvement, Madeline tried a different approach. She called Jesse close and positioned his hands as if he were going to carry her good china platter. “Here, hold him flat, so I can get to his back. He needs to bring up some of that phlegm, so he can get a decent breath.” She lowered the unmoving form into his hands, but didn’t let go until she was sure he had a good hold. 

It was a lucky thing, too. Jesse flinched when the baby’s clammy body touched his hands and almost dropped him. “Mama, this is disgusting! It’s … He’s not coming around,” Jesse whispered through gritted teeth. He tightened his grip as his mother rubbed circles on the tiny wrinkled back and gently thumped him between the shoulder blades. Sticky mucus drained out of the baby’s nose and mouth and dripped from the side of Jesse’s hand. Jesse groaned and tried to keep himself from getting sick, right then and there.

“His fingers and toes are still a little pink. He’s not all the way gone, yet, and we’re not letting that family in there buy another white coffin, do you hear me?” Madeline’s soft voice was nearly monotone, but the last part had the power of the Almighty behind it. She glanced up to see her son go pale and nod silently. “Now - you’re going to give me the baby and go get that jug you hid under the porch steps.”

Jesse froze, his mind filling with a thousand questions at once. How did she know? When did she find out? Was it something he did? Maybe JD slipped up when he was bragging in town … he was never really sure he could trust him, anyhow … All these things rushed through his head so fast, he almost felt dizzy from it. 

“What jug, Mama?” Jesse whispered, trying to stall but not wanting to truly lie to his mother. 

“Jesse Amos!” his mother hissed. “You. Get. That. Bottle. Now.” She tenderly gathered the limp baby into her arms and nudged his chin down, checking for any mucus left in his mouth or throat. “Don’t make me ask again,” she warned without even looking up at her son. 

The chastened young man hurried around to the front porch and knelt down, knocking a half-rotted square of wooden lattice out of the way. He reached behind the brickwork steps and felt for the smooth pottery jug stored there. Feeling for the little molded ring at the top, he hauled the half-full bottle from its hiding place. He hugged it close and tried not to jostle the liquid inside too harshly as he jogged toward the back of the house. As he neared the kitchen porch, he saw his mother shift the baby in her arms and reach into her apron pocket. He watched her pull something tiny out and place a quick kiss on it.

Madeline noticed Jesse’s quizzical look as he put the jug on the table and answered his question before he asked it. “This is all that’s left of Oh-So-Great-Grandmother Tully’s silver set that she brought over on the ship from England, back before Washington’s day.” She held up the miniature spoon and added, “It used to go to a salt service and, as humble as their own houses may be, every baby I ever birthed can say they started life with a silver spoon on their tongue.” She settled the newborn securely in the crook of her arm and nodded to the two-toned pottery bottle and said, “Pour me a spoonful of that in here.” She held the gleaming spoon steady as Jesse tipped half-a-dozen drops out into it. Sending one last prayer up, she let the homemade whiskey drip into the baby’s mouth and rubbed his gums with her pinky finger, then she waited, frozen in place.

An anxious few seconds passed, then the newborn jerked and sputtered, trying to rid himself of the foul burn in his mouth. He drew his first deep breath and puffed out a feeble whine. His second try was a lot more confident and he was able to get some power behind it, coming out with an impressive set of cries that let Madeline know he was going to be alright. 

Inside the little house, Raleigh and Evelyn both let out a relieved cheer that Madeline heard through the thin walls. 

“Come on, you skinny thing, let’s get you finished up,” the Duke matron said as she made quick work of the last bit of washing and swaddled the flailing baby securely into the soft towel. “Time to meet your mama and daddy.”

A short time later, Evelyn had given the baby a full going-over and was promptly tucked in with strict instructions to rest while she had the chance. Raleigh had folded himself into the wing chair in the corner of the bedroom, reluctant to leave his young wife so soon after her ordeal. The new arrival slept soundly in a well-loved Moses basket, still wrapped in the large kitchen towel, as Madeline and Jesse watched over him. 

“I want that liquor off my property,” Madeline whispered, reaching forward to brush her thumb against the baby’s soft cheek. 

“Yes, Mama,” Jesse replied, just as softly. He knew he’d pretty much seen a miracle, right there on the kitchen porch, and now was not the time to argue about anything. “Can I ask you something?” He continued after seeing his mother nod. “The baby’s name … Is that a real word?”

“Oh, I suppose ‘tis. You know Raleigh and all his books. There’s odd words in there we’d never hear in a dozen lifetimes, I expect.” 

Jesse leaned over the sleeping infant and looked at him closely. “What d’you think’ll come of him, with a name that don’t mean nothing?” 

“He’ll be alright. He’s got a fine family to go home with. Let’s let him be, now, so he don’t wake up.” Madeline adjusted the blanket around the baby and gave him one last pet before standing up from the couch. “Don’t you listen to Jesse. He’s still got a lot of growin’ up to do. You’ll make a fine man, one day, Rosco.”

**Author's Note:**

> A "rosco" (sometimes spelled "roscoe") is a word with origins in Middle English and means a place where deer gather naturally. It sometimes is considered a place with magical properties, like a fairy ring. 
> 
> (Published on Labor Day because who doesn't like a good pun? ;) )


End file.
